Late nights
by Beth - Geek Chick
Summary: Wes/Kendall An unsolvable case, a frustrated detective and an overworked tech analyst. What could possibly happen?
1. The Kitchen

As a detective, Wes Mitchell knew the "work hours" assigned to him applied in theory only. Bad guys didn't punch a clock, and that meant neither did he. The accounting department, however, frowned over every hour of overtime. He didn't care. They could bill him.

He needed the quiet the late hours of the bullpen afforded him. Their latest case had stalled, and though the captain didn't blame them, he was still annoyed. Travis had left a couple of hours ago, telling Wes to go back to the hotel, come back tomorrow. And now, Wes was wishing he'd done just that. But then he remembered the look on the face of the woman whose killer they were trying to track down.

He'd seen hundreds of them in his career, and he'd soon learned to steel himself against the crudeness and horror. What bothered him was the stark nature of where they'd found her. Dead, in her apartment of a gunshot room. A murder was apparent, by a shotgun from across the room. But the perpetrator took everything with him or her when they left. No shell casings, no footprints, no fingerprints. No one saw anything or heard anything. He refused to let this slide into the cold case files.

He sighed heavily and stood. Maybe a walk around would clear his mind. Staring at case photos was getting him nowhere. His shoes echoed in the empty corridor. Was there really nothing else going on in the city of Los Angeles that there was no other open case than his? He wished there was, if only to get his mind off of the stalemate in which he found himself.

A few feet from the communal kitchen door, he heard a thump and a groan, and he almost jumped out of his skin at the noise. Was it the cleaners? No, they came early in the morning. He was sure he'd been the only one in the building, but –

"Damn it!"

Ahh, indeed he was not alone. And by the sound of the voice, frought with annoyance as it was, a female was in the kitchen. The thumps that accompanied her swearing, though, was unfamiliar.

He walked in to see none other than Kendall, the fresh-from-Quantico tech analyst, losing her mind. Well, that's how he saw it. She was on her knees in front of the soda machine, pounding on the metal and plastic with both fists.

The sight startled him, as his previous encounters with the woman gave him the impression she was pretty put together, confident, and as committed to doing a good job as he was. What the hell happened in these dark, after hours to cause such a complete breakdown like this?

"Kendall? Everything all right?"

Apparently, she also thought she was alone in the building, as well, 'cause at the sound of his voice, she shrieked and jumped. Her kneeling stance, however, made jumping up in fright kind of difficult, and she wound up sprawled on the ground. He immediately went to help her up, but before he got there, she'd scrambled back to her feet.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, sure," she said, bobbing her head up and down so fast, her curls bounced on her forehead. Just that, coupled with the shadows under her eyes and the slightly reddened cheeks, made him think that she was lying. He hadn't known her very long, but it'd be long enough for him to know this wasn't okay.

"Then why were you attacking the soda machine?" he asked, taking a step forward. He'd shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks and tilted his head to the side, trying not to agitate her any further.

"It – it ate my money."

"Self-defense, then?" he said with a smile.

"It was the last dollar I had on me."

"Oh, right. It has a habit of doing that. Why are you here so late, anyway? I thought I was the only night owl."

"I got stuck on a case. It's frustrating."

Wes knew immediately what she was talking about. About the only usable piece of evidence they thought might hold some key information was the dead woman's computer. The killer must've known her, as there were no signs of forced entry. But the woman had password-protected and encrypted the life out of it.

"I thought you liked challenges," he said.

That got a smile out of her. "I thought you weren't listening when I told you that."

"Of course I was listening," he said. Then he pulled his wallet out of his pocket and approached the soda machine. "What did you want to drink?"

"Oh, no, you don't have to –"

"I know I don't, but it looks as though it's going to be a long night."

"You're staying late, too?" she asked.

Wes shrugged. "Can't get this case off of my mind. It's either here or at the hotel."

The machine apparently liked his crisp dollar bill, as it accepted the money, and Wes held his finger over the Mountain Dew. "This one, right?"

"No, Diet Coke. Dew's got too many calories."

Wes scoffed, "You hardly look like the type of person that's on a diet, but whatever you say."

The clunk-clunk of the cold can of soda moving through the machine echoed in the near-empty room, and both Wes and Kendall reached for the silver can as it deposited in the basket. Their fingers brushed, and Wes pulled back, wondering at the little zap of energy that traveled up his forearm.

"Thanks," Kendall said, smiling back up at him. "I guess I owe you for this."

Her cheeks were slightly pink again, and Wes suddenly flashed back to that conversation a few weeks ago where Travis was trying his hardest to talk up Kendall while they were working that dating site case. He hadn't given much attention to his partner's stating that Kendall liked him, but seeing her smiling and blushing up at him now, was he right?

And more importantly, did he dare do something he'd harangued Travis for doing all these years? Even as that thought passed through his head, he shook it off. No one was here, and he was nothing like Travis. His partner had a habit of sleeping with every good-looking woman in the building. Though Kendall was quite attractive, it took more than a curvy body and sweet smile for Wes.

"Think nothing of it," he said, returning her grin. "Tell you what, why don't we do this together?"

"I'm sorry?" she said, a half-squeak in her voice.

Her already wide eyes opened even further, and Wes blinked, then laughed as he realized what he said. Well, he thought, maybe Travis wasn't wrong in his summation of Kendall's feelings.

"The case. We both seem to be at a standstill here. Why not pool our resources?"

"Oh, right. Sure, why not?"

"I'll meet you down in your lab?" he asked. And at her nod, he left her in the kitchen to go gather his case file and jacket. He still had doubts about fraternizing in the workplace, but hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

He groaned to himself as he pushed his chair under his desk. Therapy catchphrases now? What the hell was happening to him?

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**A/N Don't know if I'll continue this or leave it as a oneshot. Maybe feedback will help me decide.**


	2. The Forensics Lab

**All hail and thanks goes to Mariagoner, author of "Blame it on the Alcohol," whose help and kindness helped push through this chapter and give me great ideas for extending it. Truly, half of this chapter is hers, and you should go read her stuff, as well. Thank you!**

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If nothing else, Wes' twice-weekly group therapy sessions had taught him to be a little more understanding of others, no matter what manner of tomfoolery or rampant idiocy they engaged in. But the trade-off to gaining a little more control over his life was the fact that he had also developed an inner therapist all his own - one that spoke with the cheerful, foreign clip of Dr. Ryan, always helpfully pointing out what he could do at any given moment and how he should interact with others.

That inner therapist would hopefully help him now that he was in a fairly intimate space with another person who was - he wasn't going to be coy - quite delicately pretty and had a way of flashing a very becoming smile at him when he asked if she needed him to brew another vat of coffee as he walked into the lab.

She shook her head at him, and he settled into an empty chair beside Kendall's desk, trying to look like he had some idea of what the hell he could possibly be doing.

"So," he said, trying to sound suave and in-control rather than creepy and unstable, "what have you been working on?"

"Same thing I've been working on for the past five hours," Kendall replied, her welcoming smile slipping a bit as her frustration flashed in her countenance. She turned her monitor so Wes could see the diagnostic running across it. "See this? I've run just about every decryption code I could think of, and some I even made up, but I can't even get past this girl's log-in screen."

Wes squinted and tried to look as though he knew what he was doing. He really didn't, of course, which wasn't to say he was an ignoramus of some sort. He'd leave that distinction to his partner, who thought that belonging to the school of hard knocks meant taking a pass on the school of anywhere else. But while Wes could chase down a lead with the best of them, wield a gun with impressive accuracy, and argue before a full court with pinpoint precision, computers mostly left him floundering.

He knew how to point and click and run through databases relevant to his work, but that was about it.

Still, if there was one thing he knew way back when from the misty days in which he had been single, it was that a man should never let a woman he was interested in realize his ignorance on anything.

"So she must have been some sort of super-hacker also, if she could hide her password so well. Maybe," he added, hoping to impress the red-head beside him just a little, "Maybe that's why she was targeted in the first place."

Kendall blinked thoughtfully at Wes' words, turning them over in her mind before responding. "What do you mean? The killer was after her computer? Why didn't he just take it, then?"

"Maybe our perp didn't know about where she stashed the computer, though," he pointed out. "After all, it wasn't even in the same room where she was found."

Wes sat back in his chair and began to think, picturing the apartment in his mind, the body of the woman lying on her carpet that was pristine, save the pool of blood beneath her. It reminded him of a case not long ago of a woman who used her computer to profile and run background checks on prospective dates.

With a glance up at the woman sitting a few feet away from him, a thought came to him that Kendall's life was eerily parallel. He grinned wryly at her and said, "Between this case and the one a little while ago with that other woman, it seems as though computer proficiency is becoming a risk factor for being horribly murdered eventually. Are you sure you've got a safe way home yourself, Miss -"

He almost said Abrams, but checked himself at the last minute. Not very suave to make her sound just like a colleague, did it? Not that he necessarily wanted her to be more right at this moment, but there was no need to close that door ahead of time. And there was nothing against regulations when it came to being friendly, was there?

"Kendall," he said at last and smiled a bit.

Between the mention of her getting home safely and the dimple that flashed when he said her name, Kendall felt her cheeks coloring a bit. Though she'd been trying for a few weeks now to get the handsome blonde detective to notice her beyond her skills, he hadn't been anything but professional. That is, up until now.

Now he seemed to be almost flirting with her. Not the Travis "want to come over my place and play Apocalypse Moon" type of flirting, which made her gag most of the time. No, Wes was just being complimentary - and as far as she could tell from the gossip - he never did that with anyone else. She hoped her instincts were right and not just the result of late night and caffeine fluctuations in her system.

"Actually, Miss wold be involved. I'm not married." She returned the half-smile he gave her, which turned into a full-fledged one when his returned again. "And you don't have to worry about me. I always keep my can of mace full and on my key chain."

He had to give her a once-over at that one. Not that he minded her initiative but, however much self-defense training she might have, she was all of a 5-feet tall and as thin as whippet, maybe weighing all of 100 pounds soaking wet.

His eyes narrowed a little as his protective instincts took over. He really was meant to be a cop, whatever Alex might say to the contrary. He spoken again, a little more worried this time. "So you don't have anyone waiting for you in your home? No roommates? No parents? No one?"

Kendall's head tilted to the side at his words. Her first reaction was to say she's been on her own and taking care of herself since she left home at 18 to go to college. And even as a sarcastic retort formed on her lips, she took in the look on his face.

There was no look of "you silly girl, don't you know how innocent you are?" that she'd seen in the past. No, he simply looked worried and concerned.

"My apartment building has security cameras and is pretty well-lit, if that's what you're wondering about," she said. "As for who I may or may not live with, does that make a difference to the case we're woking on?"

Kendall simply wanted to break some of the tension that had built up in the past few minutes, but it seemed to have the reverse affect, as the dimple disappeared, and he pulled back as if struck.

"No- of course not- that isn't to say- I didn't mean-"

Great, Wes thought. Now he sounded like some crotchety old man shaking his cane and telling some sweet young thing to get off his lawn already. His inner therapist and his inner Travis were both simultaneously wailing. When he chanced another look at Kendall's pretty face, he saw that it was as flushed as his own had become.

Her eyes caught his, and he had a sudden, unspoken transfer of thought between them. That each of them wished the ground could just open beneath its feet. Oddly, somehow, that was enough to break the tension, and his sudden laugh sparked one of her own, and before they knew it, they were both laughing softly together, the sound of it echoing through the empty, confined building.

When it died down, Wes tried another smile. "Sorry. Didn't meant to come off like some controlling nit-wit. I guess my cop instincts might have taken over for a bit. And besides -"

He shrugged, trying to look as relaxed as possible, as though he were still just a little bit with it. "If you say you're good at self-defense, I believe you. I'm just surprised you only have mace on you. Don't you have a gun license?"

Kendall settled back in her chair, mirroring Wes' stance, if unknowingly. "It's all right. Nice to know someone's looking out for me."

Her eyes glanced over at her monitor, which was still trying every possible password combination, but went back to the man sitting across from her. She was pretty much a workaholic, but there wasn't much that personally she could do right now. Her hands went up to the barrette holding the hair off her neck and released it.

"As for a gun license?" she asked, chuckling a little as she shook her head to let the hair settle around her collar. "They taught us how, and yes, I've got a license, but they just seem dangerous to me."

"Maybe," Wes said, his eyes sparkling a bit as she settled back into his chair once more, seeing an opening that he'd be a fool not to dive headfirst into. "And the state of gun control laws in this country are a disgrace. You can have a congresswoman and a theater full of people shot up within a year of each other, but God forbid our brave politicians even think of restricting sales of machine guns to random felons over the internet in the least.

"But-" he added, before Kendall could keep blinking at the sudden passion in his voice, "you are a member of the LAPD, and you never know when you need a gun in this line of work," Wes said "Cops and those who work with them get targeted all the time. Better to be prepared than to be victimized."

And then, before he could quite think about it or realize what he was, in effect, doing, he added, "Maybe I could take you to the gun range sometime? Show you how to shoot effectively, without hurting anyone but the person you're aiming for?"

Kendall's mouth stayed open for at least a few seconds after his speech. Her eyes blinked a couple of times before she clapped her mouth shut. She wasn't sure what startled her more - the depth of his passion about gun control, or the fact that he was, in essence, asking her out - to a gun range, yes, ut that was an invitation, right?

He kept looking at her, the plea evident in his eyes. "I guess that'd be okay, but I don't own a gun. Do they rent them out? You know, like the shoes at a bowling alley?"

"Do they -?" Wes would've laughed, had he not been utterly taken aback by her question. Oh dear God, he had to take her out to a gun range tomorrow. Tonight, if it was still open. Was she seriously a member of the LAPD who had never set foot in a gun range before?

And was she a computer programmer working on a case where another one had apparently been systematically slaughtered for those very same skills, who went around with nothing but a can of mace for protection? Every anal-retentive, over-protective cell in Wes' body felt like it was standing at the ready right now.

"Tomorrow," he said at last, looking at her with greater intensity than he ever had before. "Right after work. We can have dinner, and then I'll take you myself. You can borrow my gun and everything."

And then, taking another breath, and trying to remind himself that this was an invitation, and it certainly wouldn't be very inviting if he twisted her arm to get her to attend, however good it would be for her professional development, he added, "I mean, if you'd like. And you have the time. And there's no one, you know, waiting for you at home."

Hell, for all the knew, she might have a boyfriend - or girlfriend, he wasn't about to judge - waiting for her even now. And he certainly didn't want to be overbearing. God knows he'd made that mistake plenty of times already. And with that spirit in mind, he smiled again, a little more softly than before.

"Trust me, it's much more fun than bowling."

A smile began on Kendall's face as realization dawned. Was he asking her out? To a gun range? If there were a few things she'd picked up about Wes Mitchell it was that his thoughts were hard to decipher. His partner, Travis, laid it ut there. There was no guessing what that man was thinking. Maybe the mystery of Wes Mitchell drew her to him, like he was a puzzle to solve and decipher and crack open. But that same mystery that was so attractive also made figuring out what he was thinking that much harder.

Wait, she thought. In the middle of that speech and invitation, he mentioned, again, if anyone was waiting for her at home. He was interested in her, she was sure of it, and the smile on her face widened out fully.

She decided to let her flirt come out a little bit more, just to test the waters, you know. "So, if I did have someone waiting for me at home, the invitation would be null and void?"

He didn't even have to respond, 'cause the hope in his eyes dimmed.

"Well, then I guess it's a good thing that I live alone, then, isn't it?"

Wes opened his mouth, then closed it again. He could feel his face go as red as a tomato flowering in the hot California sun. Damn the fact that he was a thin-skinned blond with less melanin in his skin than the average albino. It was doing nothing to hide the fact that he had less of an idea of what to do now than he did when he was a teenager. That was what being steadily engaged, then married, and then horribly single for the last decade with no prospects did, apparently.

Finally, he opened his mouth and managed to croak out, "Is that so? That's - that's good. To know. Not that it's good overall. Just that it's a thing. That's good. To know."

Oh God. If Travis learned about this, he would never let this down. At a loss, Wes turned to one thing than never failed him, facts and figures. "In any case, it's never to late to get proper firearms training."

And here he smiled a bit, his voice turning just a little cocky as his confidence came flooding back in one area that he was damn good at.

"And I'm one of the best shots in the department. If you can't hit a fly from fifty feet after a few weeks with me, we should both be beaten for slacking off completely."

Oh, God, Kendall thought. In the past, her talks with Wes Mitchell had been around others - namely Travis - but just sitting here like this, talking and attempted-flirting, she realized really how adorable the man was. Her minor touch of flirting at him gaping like a fish and flushing like a little girl. Her mind wanted to go further and wonder what he looked like when flirting was deeper and more intense, but she shook that away.

Besides, his fumbling words answered her last hesitancy of whether he was interested in her or not. She felt a surge of happiness that usually only came out when she'd cracked a code.

"I know how to shoot a gun, but just enough to pass the profiency test. It'd be nice to have someone give me pointers."

"Then it's a date," Wes said. "I mean, not really a date, just –"

"Wes," Kendall said, trying her hardest not to laugh at the usually together detective's babbling, "How about we just call it two co-workers meeting up after hours?"

The hand she'd placed on his while saying that calmed him, and Wes nodded. "So, I don't think we'll get much more done here."

"No, and I think Scooter here deserves a break," she said, glancing over at her monitor before shutting down the program. "I'd love to leave him running overnight and come in to find he'd cracked the code, but I'm afraid he'd pop his power supply first."

Wes hesitated as he stood up. "Scooter?"

"My baby here," Kendall said, patting the CPU. She stood, also, and shrugged off her lab coat. Her cardigan hung on the back of her chair, and she slipped her arms through it.

"Do you name all of your computers?"

"Sure, don't you?"

Wes was two centimeters away from mocking when he clapped his mouth shut and shook his head. "Now, I know you're perfectly capable of making your way home safe and sound, but do you mind if I walked you to your car?"

Kendall finished shutting down her equipment and straightened the papers and folders on her desk. "I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

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**A/N So, what do you think? Is Wes gonna get group therapy points for his actions this late night? **

**Please review.**


	3. Group Therapy

**A/N Thanks again to Mariagoner for her help and talking me through where this story would go.**

**This chapter is strictly Wes' POV, to make easier reading. Thanks for all the favorites and adds and reviews. Love to hear from all of you!**

**Enjoy, and please leave a word at the bottom of the page.**

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For the first time since he and Travis had been forced to tell their secrets to strangers, Wes couldn't believe he was looking forward to telling their group in therapy the next morning about his and Kendall's late night talk.

When he'd summarized his successful "step forward into the dating scene," Travis looked at him with surprise. Everyone else chimed in with happy comments, but Travis leaned over and half-whispered. "Seriously? Kendall?"

Wes just shook his head at his partner and looked over at Dr. Ryan. He expected her to go into a whole "How do you feel about this girl, do you really think you're ready to move on with Alex, what are your intentions?" But no, she simply nodded at him and said she was proud of him.

Wes smiled and nodded at her. Maybe he was doing better than he thought.

Travis, though, was still staring at him as if he'd grown two heads.

"What?" Wes finally said. "Aren't you going to congratulate me, too?"

"After all the hell you give me about dating in-house, and you and kendall knock boots in the forensic lab?"

"We talked!" Wes stated.

"Oh, now I get it. Is this another one of your 'emotional equivalent of sex' things?" Travis said with a laugh. "'Cause dude, we didn't believe you last time, you know. And I'm sure if I take a vote here, we won't believe you unless we have proof."

Wes looked around at group, and they all sort of shrugged and look a bit disbelieving as Travis. Only Dr. Ryan still had an open and hopeful look on her face, but she always looked like that. His happy mood slipped a bit, and his arms crossed over his chest. He mumbled a whatever. He knew what happened last night, and he wasn't imagining things. He was trained to read people, and he knew Kendall's blushes and smiles were completely involuntary. She wasn't playing him in the least.

His thoughts about her were interrupted when, near the end of the session, both his and Travis' phones beeped. He read the short text and nodded to Travis, who returned it. They made their apologies to the group and headed out.

All through the next few hours, Travis never said anything to him again about Kendall. He welcomed it – to a point. He'd known Travis for years, and the man was not one to let something like this go. They were sitting at their desks that afternoon, trading insights into their latest case when a familiar voice – and face – came around his desk.

Kendall was wearing her requisite white lab coat, but she always wore it open, and today she had on a dark red cotton dress that hugged her slight frame. "Hi, Wes. Travis."

"Hey, Kendall," Travis piped up before Wes could say anything, and he set his jaw at the almost smarmy way his partner's words sounded. He could deal with Travis' attitude and insinuations and candor, but he refused to allow him to do the same to Kendall.

In a – what he hoped to be – smooth maneuver, he stood out of his chair and sat on the front edge of Travis' desk, effectively blocking the man from Kendall's view. "Hey. What brings you up here? I didn't see any computers at the crime scene this morning," he said with a smile.

"Didn't know you had another case. I'm still working on the one from yesterday, and I came up to tell you I got through."

"You could have just called," Travis said, and Wes could hear his partner's chair wheels roll to the side. He had a juvenile thought to slide over, but he stifled it and instead chose to ignore the man and concentrate on the pretty curly-haired brunette smiling up at him right now.

"That's great. So all your hard work paid off, huh?" Wes asked, keeping his eyes on her and thrilling just a bit inside that she did the same.

"Well, my hi-tech computer did all the hard work, but I got in, and this," she said, handing him a folder, "is a list of all of her e-mail, Skype and chatroom contacts. I couldn't print out all of her conversations, 'cause my department has a budget for paper, and I'd blow out this year's in one fell swoop."

Wes took the folder and flipped it open. "Wow, she's quite popular, huh? It's gonna take a while to get through these."

"Exactly what I thought when I saw it," Kendall said. She took a step closer and pointed to the page. "They're organized by date and frequency of communication. Like you said last night, this girl probably knew her attacker, so the guy would be someone she was in frequent contact with."

The woman's insight made Wes smile, and he had a half a second thought to pull her into a hug for thanks. That thought passed, leaving a warm feeling in his chest, and he smiled wide. "Thank you. Very much. This'll save us a lot of time."

"You're welcome. If you need to see the actual conversations, I've got them up and available down in the lab."

With that, she turned and walked away, but Wes kept his eyes on her until she disappeared behind the glass swinging doors. Was that an invitation to meet her again there, after hours, or –

"Well, well, well, I guess you were telling the truth," Travis said behind him.

He rounded on the man and slapped the folder on his desk. "Travis, leave Kendall alone, okay? As a favor to me."

"But –"

"But nothing. Just do it. Now, how do you want to handle these names?"

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Travis – believe it or not – kept true to his word and didn't mention Kendall again, nor did he offer to accompany Wes down to the computer lab a half hour before the end of the day. Wes could've made his own sarcastic remark at his partner's inordinate niceness, but he didn't want to spend another minute arguing about the point. He made his wishes known, and that was that.

Through a lot of cross-referencing of the names Kendall provided to the crime databases, he and Travis got a handful of possible suspects. They decided to meet up in the morning to start knocking on doors. Which gave him all the more time to have a nice evening with his new – well, she was a co-worker, but he couldn't remember the last time he invited anyone other than Travis to dinner after clocking out.

He could see Kendall bent over her keyboard in the emptying room, and he walked over to her. "Hey, ready to go yet?"

"Huh?"

He'd apparently interrupted her train of thought as she jerked up, and her hand hit a stack of papers that went fluttering to the floor. Wes automatically bent to retrieve them.

"Sorry I startled you," he said from his crouch on the floor.

"It's okay."

He handed the sheaf of papers to her, notcing again the flush on her cheeks and shy smile. "What were you thinking? I mean, to have me startle you so."

She accepted the stack of papers and put them in somewhat of a tidy stack on her desk. "Just reading through some of the victim's e-mails and chats. They're kind of – I don't know –"

"You don't have to do that," he said, leaning against her desk. "We've got a couple of men from her contacts that look good for the crime. We're going to track them down tomorrow."

"I know I don't have to, but – I mean, she reminds me so much of myself, I couldn't help it."

"What do you mean?"

"We're both women in our 20s, computer geeks, spending most of our time in front of our monitors, not really getting out much –"

Wes flashed back to their conversation last night, where he'd brought up that same fact. Her eyes looked just a bit wider, and a worry line marred her forehead. Filled with concern that his observation had put that there, he said, "But that's where the similarities stop. You work for one of the largest, most successful police departments in the world. And besides, after tonight, you'll have a rudimentary knowledge of using a firearm to defend yourself."

"Oh, right," she said, blinking up to him. "Are you sure you still want to do teach me? I don't want to intrude on your personal time."

Wes so wanted to tell her that his evenings usually consisted of working late, going to the hotel to have dinner and drinks, and then up to his rooom. "I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't want to do it."

Kendall smiled shyly again and nodded. "Okay, then."

"Good. I'll just wait for you to finish up here, and we'll go get something to eat."


	4. The Restaurant

Wes had called ahead to the restaurant, asking the maitre'd to book him a table instead of just eating at the bar like he did most nights. The man's questions kind of bordered on too personal, but Wes begged off, saying he had to go. Maybe he really needed to get out more if restaurant staff were probably gossiping about his love life.

For a minute, he thought about going someplace different, but it was too late to make reservations, and he was comfortable with the hotel's restaurant. He didn't want to overwhelm Kendall their first night out. In fact, he felt a little nervous, which was almost foreign to him. His confidence and assuredness got him through his life up until now. Why did one young, pretty thing have him smiling at odd moments of the day and looking forward to seeing her again?

He had no answers for himself and decided to put those worries on the back burner and just enjoy the moment. He'd tried a few times since signing those divorce papers, but Kendall seemed to be the most promising of the women who's shown interest in him, and vice versa. If anything, when she looks at him, he doesn't feel like he's under the glass of a microscope. He can just be himself.

Wes drove them to the hotel, after a few minutes discussion where he finally promised to drive her back to the LAPD to get her car at the end of the night. They walked in side-by-side, Wes' hand ghosting along her lower back. They weren't in that place yet that he could hold her hand or her elbow, but he wanted to give off the impression that they were together, nonetheless.

He'd been the perfect gentleman all night, and for that, Kendall was grateful. Sure, this was a "date" only in the technical sense. They'd agreed to have dinner, then he was taking her to the gun range. However, she expected something a little less – upscale. As soon as he parked, she knew where they were. After their first meeting, Kendall's talents and curious nature had her asking questions about the blonde detective, and when that well of information dried up, did a quick background check on him.

Which was why she was a little leery about him bringing her to the place where she knew he'd lived for the past year. Sure, she was attracted to him and who wouldn't like to spend a night with him? Well, for starters, she wouldn't, not on their first "date."

She knew he wouldn't force himself on her, so she decided to just go along with his plans and, if anything, enjoy a good meal. He ordered a bottle of wine and chicken parmesan, and told her to order anything she wanted.

"Okay, then I'll have a caesar salad and gnocchi, then," she said, handing her menu back to the waiter who smiled warmly at her, and then, with a wink to Wes, headed back to the kitchen. What was that about, she thought. She looked over to Wes, but he was busy unfolding his napkin and apparently didn't notice the waiter's actions.

Her uneasiness ramped up to the next level when, looking around, she noticed another waiter, the bartender, and the maitre'd glancing over towards them, a smile on all of their faces.

"Is something wrong?" Wes asked. "If you don't want wine, I can ask him for some juice or water."

She shook her head, thinking a glass or two of wine would be perfect right about now. The intensity of her job took a lot out of her today, and she needed the bit of alcohol. Their salads and wine selection came a few minutes later, and they spent the time eating and making small talk. Food and alcohol calmed Kendall somewhat, but it still didn't answer the question that buzzed in her mind like a persistent fly.

"Wes, can I ask you something?" she asked, placing her fork down.

The past half-hour had gone so well, Wes was thinking of adding it into the column of "good dates" he kept mentally, but the look now on Kendall's face threatened that, as did her tone. "Sure," he said with a smile, trying to calm her with his will. "You can ask me anything."

"Why – umm, why did you choose this restaurant, in particular?" she asked.

"I come here a lot," he said with a shrug. Well, it wasn't a lie. "I thought you'd enjoy it, as well. The food is excellent."

"Mm-hmm," she answered, and her eyes went back down to her plate. There was a line between her eyebrows now that he hadn't noticed before.

"Do you not like it? We could go somewhere else or –"

"No, we're here. It's already late, and the food's here. Be a shame to waste it."

"Okay." Wes felt his good mood slipping, and he thought maybe he should have asked her what she liked to eat, where she wanted to go, and her interests. He was so intent on going out with her, at least getting her out of the office, that he jumped right into this date thing.

That's it, he thought. Maybe they needed to talk more, know each other beyond the job description. So for the next few minutes, and after the waiter served their food, he talked. He told her about himself, where he grew up, went to school, why he became a cop, and later a detective. It was difficult, but he mentally patted himself on the back that he hadn't said the words Alex or ex-wife or wife the entire time.

He was in the middle of telling her how he had to sleep with Hudson, the k-9 dog, in the same bed one night when she interrupted him by calling his name.

"Oh, sorry," he said around a bite of chicken. "Here I've been going on and on. So that's it, I'm done. Tell me about yourself."

But she didn't. Instead, she placed her knife and fork on her plate and placed her hands on her lap. "Wes, what's going on here?"

"We're having dinner? On a date?"

She rolled her eyes, but continued, "Yes, but why the soliloquoy on the life of Wesley Mitchell? And why are we here, at your hotel?"

His mouth open in shock, then shut, and his slumped back into his chair, full of confusion. "How do you know that? Where I live?"

She waved off his question with her small fingers. "That's kind of besides the point, and in a couple of hours, I'd have found out, anyway, right?"

His confusion pretty much doubled with her question, and all he could get through his mouth was, "Huh?"

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," she said, her food forgotten on her plate as she stood.

Confusion be damned, Wes jetted out of his seat to place a hand on her arm. "No, no. where are you going? Did I say something wrong? Kendall, talk to me."

"What did you think was going to happen tonight, Wes?" she whispered, her large brown eyes blinking up at him with just a touch of hurt in them.

"Dinner, and then gun range," he replied, his hand reflexively soothing her shoulder as they talked. "Exactly what we talked about earlier. If you don't want to shoot a gun, you don't have to. I mean, we could go for a walk or just call it a night."

Between his rubbing her shoulder and whispered words, Wes can see that he'd gotten through to her, and she shook her head and sat back down. He resumed his seat, as well, and though he wanted to ask what was going on behind her beautiful eyes, he decided to wait for her to talk.

"I'm sorry," she finally said. "When I saw you brought me here, to this hotel, I just thought you expected, well, more than I thought, and –"

Wes watched as she began to shovel food in her mouth, warring ideas of "what the hell" going through his head. Finally, he spoke. "I'm sorry that I gave you that idea. I brought you here 'cause I know the food's good, is all, and I didn't want to try some place new on our first date."

"First?" she asked, her eyes rising to meet his.

"Yeah, unless you're so traumatized by the awkwardness that you're going to refuse to be seen with me in public," he laughed, half-joking, half-horrified that she's going to agree with the latter.

"I thought –" Kendall shook her head. "We're kinda pathetic, aren't we?"

"A bit."

"I'd say we should start over, but –"

"How about, we just enjoy our dinner, talk some more, and if you still feel like it, we'll hit the gun range," Wes said.

"I'd like that."

A few minutes passed as they ate their food, the air between them easier. One thing still bugged Wes, though, and as the minutes passed, he knew he had to speak now. "Kendall? Can I ask you something? How did you know I live here?"

Kendall feels a bit chagrined, but not nearly as embarrassed as she was a few minutes ago. "You know, around the office."

"I doubt that."

"What, you don't think people are interested in you?"

"Sure, but –"

"And I might have done some of my own looking around," she confessed, hoping he'd drop the subject. The last thing she wanted was to come across as some crazy stalker.

"You did a background check on me, didn't you?"

Kendall blushed, but nodded with a smile. The look of disbelief on Wes' face made her smile even wider. He didn't seem as traumatized as she assumed he would be "What? A girl has to be careful, you know. Can't just go out with anyone."

Wes' disbelief turned to mirth, and he began to laugh. He truly couldn't believe this girl. "I'm a detective, Kendall, and an upstanding member of the community. Shouldn't that give me a pass?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, and said, "No. "

"What else did you find out about me? I mean, I feel stupid telling you about myself if you already know." That, plus, Wes thought, how much did she know about his personal life? He couldn't have any control over office gossip, but he tried as well as he could to not talk about himself too much.

"Well, I know you're 35, you've been a cop for 7 years, after being a lawyer for a couple years. You're divorced for a little over a year now, and live in this hotel."

"Okay," he said, raising his hands in surrender. "I believe you. Though it's a bit weird."

"Sorry."

"You know," he said, "With one phone call, I could learn about the same from you."

She shrugged. "Not much to learn. Besides, isn't it more exciting to not know?"

It was, Wes thought, but he was having such a good time talking with her, he continued, "Then how do I know you're not a crazy stalker or serial killer or are just after me for my body and money?"

That last part, though true, had Kendall laughing. "Oh my God. Can't you just take my word for it?"

"Yeah, I think I can," Wes said, and with a wink, dove back into his dinner.

* * *

**Thanks again to Mariagoner for her help dissecting the Wes/Kendall dynamic. Please review. :)**


	5. The Gun Range

**A/N Loving all the renewed Wes/Kendall love springing up on the site recently. Thanks to mariagoner and rosesareforwriters for their help and messages and RPing and just all-around fangirl love.**

**Enjoy some loveliness from our favorite couple.**

* * *

After they ate dinner, Wes drove them back to the department for part two of their "date." He half-smiled to himself at the thought of coming here with Alex. She didn't even like him keeping the gun in their bedroom, much less the house. He couldn't imagine her at a gun range.

The lower level of the LAPD that housed the gun range seemed deserted, which didn't surprise him. It was mostly used by law enforcement and ran by a retired officer that Wes had gotten to know over the years. He'd given the man, Janson was his name, a call earlier to inform him he'd be bringing a newbie down there and to make available a small pistol and ammunition. It'd be nice to have Kendall shoot his own weapon, but if she wasn't used to it, the kickback would end up hurting her.

Janson had reminded him that usually wasn't the protocol, but since he owed Wes a favor, he was cashing it in. "Mitchell, about time you got here."

"Thanks for keeping the place open for me, Janson," Wes said, extending his hand to the man.

"No problem," Janson said, his eyes flitting behind Wes to the petite redhead. "You do know this makes us even, so lock up when you're done," he said, tossing the keys to Wes before grabbing his jacket and leaving.

Wes pocketed the keyring and turned to Kendall, who stood behind him, her eyes wide and looking around. "Guess we've got the place to ourselves."

"Uh-huh."

"I didn't plan this, you know. There's usually a handful of people here, but –" Wes shrugged and turned to the office where the locker of spare firearms were kept. Janson had, indeed, laid out a light pistol that would be perfect for her. He signed it out and led Kendall down the hallway to the firing range.

"Do you need me to show you, or –"

No, apparently, he didn't, 'cause Kendall immediately went to the shelf behind them and picked up ear and eye protection. He tried to remember back to their conversation last night. Didn't she say she was trained, but hadn't picked up a gun since? The way she was setting up, and – damn, he never thought he'd be aroused or attracted by the movements a person took loading a gun, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from her small fingers as she loaded the bullets in.

It'd been over a year since Kendall held a gun, but she found the pistol Wes handed her to be about the same that she'd trained with at Quantico. She smiled as the instructor's shouting echoed in her memory. "Backs straight! Arms straight! Do not put your finger on the trigger unless you plan on firing within three seconds!"

She had to suppress a giggle remembering the man's almost drill-instructor-like demeanor. At the time, she'd wanted to turn and mock salute with a "Sir, yes, sir," but was afraid he'd make her drop and give him 20. Still, the man cut no corners with their week-long training, and though some in her class were glad it was over, she didn't mind it too much. In high school, she'd excelled at archery, and she found the task of shooting a gun similar. Her perfect eyesight, she believe, contributed,and she scored at the top of her class.

The drill instructor had told her at the time it was a shame she was a techie, 'cause she shot better than most agents and operatives that were currently in the field. She'd blushed at the time and said thank you, but never picked up a gun again. Until now.

The six shots echoed through the large, empty room, and after emptying the barrel, she placed the weapon on the counter and slid her ear plugs out. "Well, it's been a while, but what'd you think?" she asked, looking over at Wes who stood a few feet away.

What did he think? What did he think? Trying to hide too wide of a smile, Wes walked over to her and pressed the button to retrieve the paper target. Even in her small heels, he stood about half a head taller than her, and he leaned against the waist-high counter. Since he met her, things about Kendall Abrams struck him, and in addition to beauty, smarts, humor, and the ability to shoot Travis down with one word, he could now add crackshot to the list.

In the past, if someone had asked me what his ideal woman would encompass, he'd probably describe his ex-wife to them, but the past few weeks had him seriously reconsidering those qualities.

The target slid into their view, and he dragged his gaze off of her lovely face and to the paper. He knew without even looking at it that she'd made at least half the shots dead-center. Also, she didn't blink once and held herself steady the entire time. If she thought he was coming on strong at the hotel, he had to calm down now before he lifted her up on the counter.

Kendall sighed beside him. "Darn, I missed one," she said, pointing to the one hole above the outline's shoulder. "But the rest aren't bad, right?"

"Not bad at all," Wes replied, trying not to let too much admiration color his voice. But, judging from the light flush that colored her cheeks, it didn't matter how he said anything. He ran his fingers over the target. One shot dead center and the others scattered around the torso. "You could shoot a man dead at ten paces."

"Wow, really?"

Wes smirked and held the target up to his chest. "All of these shots would be deadly."

"Except that one," she said, poking at his shoulder where her one shot went wide.

"It would've scared the hell out of him, nonetheless," Wes said, grabbing her poking finger off his chest. He expected her to pull away, but she surprised him by curling her fingers around his. "You – uhh – you're a great shot, Kendall."

"Thanks," she said, giving his hand a squeeze before stepping away. He felt a sense of loss that didn't equate her actions, but he shook it off.

She'd stepped to the side and seemed to be waiting, so he gave her a smile and loaded a fresh target in. Glasses on, ear protection in, he took his normal stance and pulled his own weapon from his waistband. Six quick, successive shots, then he re-holstered.

When the echoes of his last shot quieted down, Wes' posture loosened, and when he turned back at her, she was staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. Without looking, his finger found the retrieve target button. Had her shooting been off or as amateurish as he expected, he wouldn't have shot as he normally would. Besides, he had a feeling that she didn't expect him to go easy on her.

"You know, for someone who hasn't shot a gun outside of a range, you're pretty damn good," he said.

Kendall didn't need to look at the paper target to know that he didn't miss one shot. She wasn't even looking at the target as he unloaded his gun. No, her eyes were glued to the sight of him as he'd transformed into a calculating figure of a man that every bad guy in Los Angeles would fear. And every hot-blooded woman – herself included – would want to take home and see what else those quick fingers could do.

She swallowed down the lump in her throat, and half-smiled at his compliment. "There's always room for improvement, and didn't you bring me down here to help me?"

She picked up her pistol and reloaded it with the half-full box of shells. "How about my stance, or how fast I pull the trigger?"

Right, Wes thought. He brought her here to teach her, to help her. Though her flirtatious moves had the lower half of his body responding, he pushed it away for now and reloaded a fresh paper target in and sent it down the range.

They both replaced their ear and eye protection, and Wes slowly came up behind her, keeping his movements slow and deliberate so as not to frighten her into running out of the place. His hand lightly settling down on her extended arm at the elbow, moving it up a little until it was straightened.

"Don't be so stiff when you fire," he said low. "Your form is pitch-perfect, but when you're actually in the field, you'll need to be loose enough to actually react to anything that might be coming."

Her muscles were tense beneath his hand, and he gave her arm a squeeze until he felt her relax just a bit, then he stepped back, telling himself he didn't allow his fingers to caress her bare arm, though he knew he did.

"Relax," he whispered, "and just be sure to breathe easy."

And, just like before, she squeezed off all six rounds in easy succession, never flinching in between. He took a deep breath, the exhale shuddering just a bit. Damn, he thought. Damn, damn, damn.

"I don't think here's anything left that I have to teach you, Miss Abrams," he said with a smirk as she turned back to him. "Congratulations."

Kendall placed the pistol on the counter and stared curiously at Wes' outstretched hand, the smile on his face. The high she felt from shooting the gun so perfectly, not to mention the caress of Wes' hand on her arm as he adjusted her stance, slid down into cold reality.

"Oh, okay, then, thanks," she said, clasping his hand and shaking it a couple of times before releasing. "Maybe I will apply for a license and pick one of these up."

A wash of utter disappointment settled through her, and she took her ear protection and glasses off and set them with the pile of others on the shelf behind them. She'd wait 'til later, when she got home, to allow the disappointment come out completely with a pint of ice cream and a round on Apocalypse Moon. For now, she'd thank her new "friend" for the lovely dinner and shooting lesson.

Wes blinked, not sure what had just happened. He seemed to be at a loss the entire night trying to read Kendall. Had she been a suspect, he could do it, no problem. But it seemed every other thing he said or did had her either flirting with him or pushing him away.

Maybe Travis was right. He really had no skills with women. "Are you sure you want to leave now? Is something wrong?"

"Nope, nothing's wrong, but as you said, I can shoot perfectly well, so what else is there to do here?" she asked.

She didn't meet his eyes when she talked, and Wes looked over her, trying to gain some other type of visual clue why she shut down so suddenly. Her shoulders, previously standing tall and strong as she unloaded the pistol, slumped forward, and her fingers twisted in front of her chest.

"You can stay and practice, if you want," she said, her eyes flicking up to his. "I'll just drive home and see you tomorrow."

He had a strong feeling he was being dismissed. And from the frown now creasing her pretty features, she didn't seem all that unhappy. "No, I can walk you to your car. It's just - did I do something wrong?"

"No, no, nothing wrong," Kendall answered, although a bit too fast, and she knew it. Why, damn it. Why did he have to look at her like that? And then he was stepping closer, just like he did in the kitchen last night, and just like then, she could feel her heart begin to race with his proximity. She'd probably never forgive herself for doing this, but there really was no way she could go on without knowing.

"I just thought, you know, we were on a date, and the last time one ended with a handshake, I was 14 years old. Sorry if I've completely misunderstood this. As I said before, I'm better with circuit boards than people,so you know."

"Oh," he said, and Kendall risked another look into his eyes, which were now filled with concern, and a bit of – was that disappointment? "I didn't mean to make you think that this wasn't serious," he said. "I - I do like being with you. I liked having dinner with you, and I liked this. You're smart and hard-working and funny and cute and..."

His eyes, lowered as he talked, rose up to meet her own, and the disappointment had disappeared, only to be replaced by an intensity that held Kendall in place and sent her pulse skyrocketing again. The usual sea blue in them melting into a darker hue that showed the intensity of his words.

His entire speech, halting and full of doubt as it was, soothed her ache just a little, and Kendall had to laugh. "So, you like me, huh?"

It seemed he'd already said as much as he wanted, and he merely nodded, the intensity in his eyes never waning. And, in a flash, Kendall was reminded of what all she'd learned about Wes Mitchell. Though on the outside he seemed so put-together and dapper, he had a background and a past just like everyone else, though his held more tragedy than hers.

He'd only been divorced a year, and given how long he'd been married, he probably hadn't dated much prior. Plus, he'd yet to move on fully 'cause, she knew, he still lived in the hotel he'd moved into when he'd separated from his wife.

Putting aside her own doubts, Kendall decided that, should she just walk away now, she and Wes would forever be tiptoeing around each other, flirting here and there, but never moving forward. "Well, I guess it's a good thing that I like you, too," she replied.

Oh, Wes thought, okay then. He could feel himself smile as happiness, and yes, relief, flooded through him. He was probably blushing like a school girl right about now, and the strangest thing was that he didn't mind at all.

Before he lost this feeling, or before the bubble of euphoria burst around them, he leaned forward and down. He'd meant to only kiss her cheek, perhaps embrace her small frame seal their tentative relationship, but her head tilted in anticipation, and his eyes focused like a laser on the redness of her lips.

It was light, soft, and given their age and experience, probably couldn't be called romantic by anyone observing, but to him, the small touch of his lips against hers was enough to confirm what he'd known all along. Kendall was the sweetest woman he'd ever met.

When he drew away, her eyes were looking almost straight through him. "Do you really want to leave?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Well, I don't want to go home yet, but –"

"But?" he prompted, tucking a strawy curly lock behind her ear.

"What else can we do here that's fun?" she asked. Then, before he could answer, she said, "Oh, I know. My laptop's in my desk."

"Your laptop?"

Kendall nodded, a gleam coming into her eyes. "Travis plays Apocalypse Moon every night. Want to watch me kick his ass?"

Wes had to hold himself back from shouting out his love for this girl, and said, "God, that would be the perfect end to this night."

"Then follow me."

* * *

**A/N Wes has no game 'cause he's still half hung up on Alex, though he's trying to move on. Kendall, in my mind, is a girl-geek, whose intellect and techie background has her in front of a monitor more often than she is on a date. So much angst and fun available.**

**Please review. Love hearing from everyone.**

**Oh, meant to give a reply to anonymous reviewer, the lovely Mascha, since I can't review reply. Thanks for your kind words and constructive criticism. In reply, I write as a hobby, and though my stories aren't perfect, it's as good as it's gonna get. Writers don't get paid on this site, and I put in as much effort as is warranted. Thanks again!**


	6. The Punch

After one of the most enjoyable nights he'd ever had, Wes joined Travis driving around to all of the most likely suspects that the victim had been in constant contact with. There were four names, and after the third one's alibi proved airtight, they moved on to the fourth one.

A full day of driving Travis around, with him knowing what happened last night – who knew Janson was a gossip – had Wes in a decidedly annoyed mood. He refused to feel bad, 'cause every time that emotion jumped up, Kendall's wide eyes, luminescent skin and soft lips swam in his memory.

The fourth mark, a guy named Harvey Stein, was their least likely, but as soon as they showed their badges and announced who they were, the guy took a sucker punch to Wes' jaw and raced past them out into the hallway.

Now, Wes had taken punches in the past, but this guy didn't know how to do it correctly, and his knuckles caught him right on his jawbone. The guy wound up breaking a few bones in his hand, but Wes had a nasty bruise and an appointment with his dentist 'cause he was sure a few fillings just got knocked loose. Why don't guys aim for the eye or nose, he thought? Those are easily reset and usually just bruised. Dental work was costly.

Plus, the pain and swelling had him talking slightly funny for the rest of the day.

Between giggles and outright laughing, Travis took control of Harvey and volunteered to take him to get his hand wrapped, then down to the station for booking and interrogation. By protocol, Wes got checked out, too, but he had a pretty good idea of his own limitations. He was back at the department in an hour.

First stop was to forensics. And no, he didn't just want to see Kendall. Since their perp as much as confessed with the "hit and run," they needed to get his correspondence and confront him with it. And should Travis ask about his whereabouts, that's what he'd tell him.

The lab was empty save her, and Wes let himself stare through the glass door at her petite form. Their friendship, thing, whatever they had, had him wondering how to act, what she'd expect. He wasn't kidding when he always went on at Travis about relationships in the workplace. It most always led to awkwardness should things go wrong.

He pushed open the door, and the soft whoosh caught her attention.

"You know, that sound kind of precludes trying to sneak up on me," Kendall said with a chuckle as she turned to see who entered the lab. A surge of excitement raced through her seeing it was Wes, but his normal smile this morning was marred by a swollen and bruised jaw.

"Oh, my god, what happened to you?" she asked, out of her chair and halfway across the room in a few seconds. Her fingers reached up to the discolored skin, softly brushing across the skin.

His breath hissed in, and she froze.

"Careful," he said, though he wasn't moving away from her touch.

"What happened?" she asked.

"We found our perp."

Her eyes, formerly full of concern and worry, now narrowed at him. "So you decided to get in a fist fight to celebrate? Tell me he at least looks worse than you do."

"I think he broke a couple of fingers when he hit me."

"And you didn't retaliate?" Kendall couldn't imagine Wes not wanting to defend himself against anyone, especially while on the job.

"Come on," he said, ushering her back to her desk.

She sat at her desk chair, and he pulled around another until they faced each other. "Travis and I went to all the suspects' places, but we struck out at every one except the last one. Harvey Stein. He opened the door, we showed our badges, said we were police and needed to talk to him, and he answered by sucker punching me." He flexed his jaw open and grimaced. "I think he knocked a couple of teeth loose," he said, trying to lighten the air. He had a flash of memory of Alex's response to him coming home in less-than-one piece. The last straw that broke the marriage's back was when he got grazed by a bullet.

"Again," Kendall said, "Why is he only being treated for a broken hand?"

He didn't want to keep comparing Alex and Kendall, but really, his marriage was the only yardstick he had in this arena. So far, though, Kendall was making leaps and bounds beyond Alex, including being compassionate and understanding about his job. "He ran past us, and Travis tackled him and cuffed him. I'm not a brute, Kendall. Though thinking about how long it's going to take for this to heal, I wouldn't mind a few minutes alone with the jerk."

"I'm sorry you got hurt," she said, her fingers once again raised to graze along his jaw. The soft touch was soothing, and he let it continue for a few seconds more before again pulling it away. "Please, please don't take this the wrong way, but we really can't do – this" he said with a squeeze of her small fingers "here."

"But we were here last night."

Her logic, as usual, was impeccable. "No one was around, and there's way too many eyes here. Please, don't think I don't want this," he said, staring directly into her big brown eyes. "I just don't want any more gossip spread about us – about you."

"What do you mean, any more?"

Wes chuckled, which caused him to then wince 'cause even a smile made his jaw ache. "Janson – the guy who let us in the gun range yesterday – told Travis. He made fun of me all day today about my choice of date destinations."

"I thought it was fine," Kendall said. "Besides, it's none of his business, and if he were here, I'd tell him as much."

"Nice to know you're on my side."

"Always. Now," she said, "I assume you didn't come down here just to gain my sympathy and compassion."

"Well, the compassion was a definite plus, but yeah, we need the guy's correspondence for interrogation."

"Of course," Kendall said, and with a flourish, she picked up a thick folder and handed it to him.

"You already had them all printed out?" Wes asked. "Didn't you say it was too much?"

"Yeah, well, I had a hunch out of the four guys, he was the one," she said. "So I went ahead and prepared his correspondence for you."

A swell of admiration built up in Wes. "If you'd have let me in on your hunch, Travis and I would have saved a lot of shoe leather. And I would've had my guard up against this guy and not got clocked."

"Really? Captain Sutton would've agreed to arresting a guy based on the hunch of a newbie forensic tech?" she asked, disbelief evident in her voice.

"I would've agreed to it," he asserted. "You haven't stepped wrong yet."

Wes stood to leave, and she asked, "Are we having dinner tonight again?"

"I don't think so," Wes said. "We've got to get the ball rolling on this guy, and then Travis and I've got this group therapy thing."

The disappointment showed on her face, and Wes almost felt like ditching tonight's session, but he wasn't sure the excuse of "I've got a date" would be a valid excuse. "If you want, I can give you a call after, you know –"

"Oh, okay, here," she said, grabbing a slip of paper. "Here's my information."

* * *

It wasn't until later, when he and Travis were sitting in the community center, waiting for the rest of the group to show up, that he took the slip of paper out of his pocket and looked closely at it. For the past several hours, ever since Kendall handed it to him, he'd been thinking about it and running his hands overit in his pocket.

Now, as he took it out and read it, did he notice what she'd written down. He'd been expecting a phone number, but she also wrote down her address. A thrill of excitement shot through him as he read over the numbers and letters. Was she doing that just to be thorough, or was she expecting him to visit that night? That thought caused another small thrill, one that went directly behind his pants zipper, and he shifted in his chair.

"Whatcha got there, partner?"

He fingers reflexively folded the paper in half and shoved it back in his pocket. "Ahh, nothing. Just a note reminding me to do something later."

"You have an iPhone for that, Wes. And what could you possibly have to do later on?" Travis asked.

Wes about to tell him – for at least the 10th time that day – to mind his own business when his partner's face lit up with realization.

"Oh, okay, okay. I get it. Women always love to want to make it feel better. Go easy, bro, okay? You've been out of the game for a while."

"Travis –"

Thankfully, Dr. Ryan's arrival made his retort unnecessary, and he gave their therapist a grateful smile. As the others filed in and settled, he decided to just call Kendall tonight. Though Travis' advice was unneeded, it was pretty much along the lines of what Wes was thinking, anyway. He had been out of the game for a while.

But what he did know was that whatever was building between himself and Kendall deserved much more than just a midnight "booty call," despite what his libido was telling him. No, she deserved to be courted, if that was a word that could be used in this day and age. Wooed? Pursued? Whatever nomenclature could be assigned to how he felt, he'd take.

* * *

**A/N Again, all thanks and hugs go to all you guys for the reviews, favorites, alerts, and all that jazz. Big hugs go to the writers/actors of Common Law who gave such an awesome season finale, that a second season is hopefully in the bag.**

**Please leave a word how you think Wes/Kendall is doing here. Hugs and kisses in advance!**


	7. The Phone Call

"Hello?"

"Hey, Kendall. It's Wes."

"Hi."

"Hi."

Wes settled further back into his couch and set his bare feet up on the coffee table. After getting back to the hotel, he'd eaten, showered and changed into a tee and sleep pants before grabbing up his phone. He'd tried not to obsess over that slip of paper Kendall had handed him that afternoon. But he kept looking at it, running his fingers over the numbers. Had he not pretty much memorized the figures written on it, he was sure it'd be unreadable by now.

"You don't mind me calling so late, do you?" he asked.

"Not at all. I'm usually up past midnight."

He wished it wasn't too weird this early on to ask what she was wearing. Even being years out of the game, he knew that was a big no-no. Instead, he tried to picture what her casualwear would be. Was she the jeans and t-shirt type, or did she go with yoga pants and a tank top? The latter one seemed more apt, so he settled for that image.

"Annihilating demons on your video game?"

She laughed, "No, not tonight. You know, if you joined, we could team up and kick Travis' butt together."

Wes couldn't help but join in with her in remembrance. "As great as that sounds, I have to say, I haven't played a video game since I was a teenager."

"Oh, okay."

She sounded so disappointed, he couldn't help but add, though he couldn't quite believe it as he said it, "But I could look into it, you know. It was fun watching you last night."

"Oh, you don't have to. I'm sure you've got other things to keep you busy."

Wes looked around at his hotel room, thinking how most of his nights he either read or cooked or had a drink downstairs in the bar. If she only knew, he thought. "Hey, I wanted to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"You gave me your address, so I kept thinking all night, you know, why you did that."

"I thought it only fitting, 'cause I knew where you lived."

"Oh, okay," he said, giving himself a mental facepalm at his earlier thoughts of a late night "booty call," as Travis would call it. "I just thought –"

"What, Wes?"

"That you expected me to come over."

"Oh, gosh, well, you can if you want. The place is kind of a mess, though. I'm usually neat, but the past couple of late nights have cut into my home time."

Wes felt a rush of embarrassment given what he expected and what her true intentions were. He had to keep reminding himself that she was unlike any other woman he'd met. And that he should stop taking dating cues and advice from his partner.

"No, no, misunderstanding," he said, trying to rebuild the bridge he just trampled over. "Pretty much already settled here."

"In your jammies, then, huh."

"Yeah, yeah, I am."

Wes heard shuffling and then her sigh, and he pictured her settling down into a position similar to his.

"What about your place? Must be pretty nice to live in a hotel."

"It's a place to stay," he said with a shrug.

"You've got everything there you'd need, and a built-in staff should something go wrong."

"There is that."

"Will you stay there forever?" she asked.

"I don't know," Wes replied. "I've still got the house, I mean, my name's still on the deed, and - you probably don't want to hear about that," he said, catching himself just in time.

"I don't mind. Remember, I already know a lot."

She was right, but Wes still thought it weird doing this on their first phone call. "You sure?"

"Please don't start holding back. We'll get nowhere."

"Okay," Wes said, settling back into the cushions. "But stop me anytime you want."

"Wes, talk to me."

And so he did. For the first couple of minutes, he twinged every time he had to mention Alex's name, but he summarized as much as he could the past few years of his life. And her responses had been…perfect. Maybe it's because they weren't face-to-face. He was able to talk more freely and think less that he was being judged.

Come to think of it, though, Kendall never appeared to him like that. She'd taken him, quirks and all, and was still here, on the other end of the phone, laughing at his attempts at humor and talking about her own life.

Other than knowing the basics about her life, Wes learned she was from Pennsylvania and got her degree in Pittsburgh before training at Quantico and accepting a position on the coast. The change was something of a culture shock for her, but she liked not having to worry about snow and "black ice," whatever that was. It sounded dreadful to Wes, whose family had lived in California his whole life.

She kept in touch with her family and friends, but has only been in town for a few months, so outside of people at work, she was pretty much on her own. Wes found it kind of ironic that their lives mirrored each other, except he'd had years to make friends.

* * *

Curled out on her fold-out couch, Kendall smiled to herself as she listened to Wes' deep voice. She'd hoped to see him again tonight, but this was just as good. Well, almost. There was no way she'd be able to steal another kiss over the phone. She shook her head at her own thoughts. It'd only been, what, two nights ago that he'd found her in the kitchen?

Now she was dreaming of spending time with him, dating, and yes, kissing him again and finding out what was beneath those expensive suits he wore. She'd gotten a hint when he and Travis had spent a couple days dressed as each other, when he'd come in wearing a skin tight shirt and low-hanging jeans. Though she'd prayed that one of their cases that day would bring them into the forensics lab, but no dice. She wondered what he was wearing now, what he wore when no one was watching.

She looked down at her own outfit of a red tank top and white capris. Did he wear shorts and a tee when at home? She wished they were at a point where she could ask without sounding too stalker-y. She wasn't sure how long he'd been interested in her, but ever since they met, Kendall had a crush on the brooding, blonde detective. It'd struck her at the time as odd, 'cause he so didn't fit into her "type." Guys she'd dated in the past were almost a male version of herself. They hadn't been anything like Wesley Mitchell.

But something about him drew him to her, had her smiling whenever they were close, and her heart skipping a bit whenever his blue eyes would meet hers, and that dimple would pop out. She'd sometimes fantasize about how good of a kisser he was, and though last night's kiss at the gun range was brief, it thrilled her, nonetheless, and spoke of a gentle and passionate man.

When the conversation between them went silent once more, she said, "Tomorrow's Friday."

"Yep. Looking forward to the weekend?"

"Always. But I'd been thinking of going to the Natural History Museum Saturday."

"Really?"

"Yep. I've been trying to hit all the spots since I moved here."

Kendall hadn't meant her revelation to turn into a date request, but she couldn't help but get excited at Wes' next question.

"Would you like some company?"

"Sure. Have you ever been?"

"Yes, several times. I've contributed to them several times."

"A personal tour guide, how exciting," Kendall said. Then, before she could help herself, a yawn caught her off guard.

"You sound enthused," he said with a laugh.

"I am, I am. Just tired. Long day, and it is getting late."

"You're right. It's almost midnight. We've been talking –"

"For hours," Kendall said, glancing at the time. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Looking forward to it. Good night, Kendall."

"Night, Wes."

* * *

**A/N Thanks again to my little band of Wes/Kendall fans reading and reviewing. Love hearing from each and every one of you! It's now 10pm on a Friday, and I'm missing the show already. So sad. But I've got all the eps recorded on dvd and ripped onto my computer. Everyone should tweet and facebook and post and vote to the Common Law powers that be for a second season!**

**Please review.**


	8. The Apartment

Wes made sure everyone was busy or out of the department when he went to talk to Captain Sutton close to quitting time on Friday. He didn't need anyone barging in or overhearing.

"Cap, you busy?" he asked, pushing open the man's door.

If it were anyone else who didn't know Captain Sutton's behaviors as of late, they'd probably think he was. But Wes was used to the man's "new age" practices, and the fact that his superior was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, with two metal balls in each hand, rotating them through his fingers, didn't even faze him.

"Something on your mind, Mitchell?" Sutton asked, his fingers never losing their rhythm.

"Just informational, is all. Wanted to make you aware that I am – uhh – well, dating a member of the LAPD."

The clink-clank of the metal balls falling onto Sutton's desk made Wes jump a couple of inches, and the captain hurriedly retrieved the rolling metal balls and tossed them in a desk drawer. "You didn't see that."

Wes lifted his hands in surrender.

"So, uhh, what's her name?" he asked.

"It never leaves this room, right?"

"Unless you give me a reason to have it leave the room. Just spill it. You're cutting in on my meditation hour."

Wes fought back a smirk. He'd known the man sitting in front of him back when he chewed nails for breakfast. "It's Kendall Abrams, she's a computer forensics tech, and –"

Sutton's eyes grew wide at the woman's name. "Abrams, huh? She's an interesting choice for you. Kind of young, though, don't you think?"

"Only about eight years," Wes said. "And what does that have to do with anything? You only said to inform you, which I am doing."

Sutton waved off Wes' protestation. "That's not it, not really. Just, surprised you're going out with anybody. It's been, what, about a year since your divorce went through?"

Wes groaned, and his eyes shut in frustration. Geez, did everyone he knew feel the need to comment on his personal life? He thought at least the captain would be impartial to this news.

"Do you need to know anything else?" he asked, pointedly ignoring the man's question.

"Wes, I'd like to think we're a little past the boss-employee scenario here. I've been worried about you."

"Seriously?"

Sutton pointed at the chair on the other side of his desk. "Sit."

There were at least a dozen things Wes wanted to do at that very moment, none of which included having an impromptu therapy session with his boss. Finding nothing in his immediate knowledge to dissuade the man, he sat in the chair.

"Now, I don't normally involve myself in my detectives' personal lives –"

Wes' brow rose at that. What the hell was he doing there, then?

"But you are one of my best detectives. I need you to be at the top of your game. If you're jumping into something just to compete with Travis or prove something to Dr. Ryan –"

At this, Wes stood. "Captain, as well-intended as all this is, you have nothing to fear. Though I will surpass Travis in, well, everything, notches on my bedpost is where I draw the line. And you well know that anything that happens in therapy is subject to doctor-patient confidentiality. Kendall and I have only gone out officially once, and we're seeing each other this weekend. That's all. You've mentiond time and again at needing to know about fraternization within the department, which I am doing now. If you'll excuse me, I have some paperwork to finish before I leave."

* * *

As much as he didn't want it to, Captain Sutton's words still echoed in Wes' head the next morning as he was buzzed up to Kendall's apartment. Was he just pursuing a relationship with someone to compete with Travis or gain favor with his therapist?

He knocked on her apartment door, and all doubts racing around his head faded to the background as the door swung open. Kendall stood there, a smile on her face. Wes' eyes dropped down her thin frame, taking in the sleeveless pink blouse, braided belt and flowy white skirt that hit just below the knee. Her bare legs ended in strappy sandals.

"Hi, Wes."

Her voice snapped his eyes back up to her face, and he put on a smile to make her think he wasn't just checking her out. "Hi. Ready to go?"

"Yep. You can step in, if you want. I've just gotta get my stuff."

He shut the door behind him and took a few steps from the hallway to the open living space, his keen mind taking note of everything he saw. Their hours-long talk a couple of days ago taught him quite a lot about the self-described digi-forensics geek, but he learned much more just by standing there for a minute.

He expected something of what a geek's place of residence to be, but there were no sci-fi movie posters or figurines sitting around. Instead, the colors were basic – white, red and black. A large couch extended across one wall, and an interesting abstract art piece hung behind it. Stacks of magazines on a coffee table, a few sculptures.

Elegant and tasteful were two words that came to mind, and he took a few steps further in to see what the magazines were when she came out of the bathroom, a tote bag slung over her shoulder.

"Ready to go? Or, I guess I should offer you something to drink, huh? Coffee? Or –"

"No, I'm good. I had breakfast before I came. I was just looking at your artwork here," he said, gesturing to the wall behind the couch.

"Oh, yeah. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

She'd come up to his side, drawing Wes' attention to her profile. Her hair was down, her curls just reaching her shoulders, and the light makeup she wore made her wide brown eyes even larger than he remembered. Her pink-tinted lips curved as she looked at the painting, and Wes said, "Beautiful."

She turned, and her eyes locked with his at his words, and her cheeks flushed at the obvous compliment. She didn't duck her head this time, as she'd done in the past with shyness, and he found himself taking half a step closer, and his hand lifting to her cheek on the pretext of tucking a stray lock behind her ear.

As they were at the gun range, Wes felt his surroundings drop away around him as his entire focus zeroed in on this woman standing before him, wide, intelligent eyes promising him things he wish he had the nerve to take. Instead, with as much restraint he could muster, he cupped her jaw with one hand and lowered his mouth to hers.

He'd noticed her lips had parted a fraction of a second before his touched hers, and the small sound she'd made whispered into his mouth as he kissed her. It slightly pushed the boundaries of what he'd half-intended to be a small kiss, but he didn't stop to wonder at it. Instead, as she moved slightly to kiss him back, it created an opportunity for the tip of her tongue to slip out. A slight brush against the inner skin of his upper lip thrilled him with her sweet taste for a couple of seconds before she pulled away.

He wanted to continue, God, did he want to, as it'd been so long since he'd been on the receiving end of such affection, but his much stronger inner voice reminded him that Kendall wasn't just a dalliance he wanted, but a true relationship he hoped to foster. With a shuddering inhale and a last stroke of his thumb along the smooth skin of her cheek, he stepped back.

Her tote had slid down her arm, and as she pulled it back, he saw that it was packed.

"What all do you have in there?" he asked. "The museum doesn't allow you to bring food in."

"Oh, no," Kendall said, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. "It's just my sketch pad and pencils."

"Your sketch pad? You draw?" he asked.

She shrugged, "Just as a hobby. It's not much."

"Don't be modest."

"I'm not. It's just – Some people like to take pictures when they go to a museum. I like to sketch what I see."

Wes nodded, and as they left the apartment, his hand settled at the small of her back. Kendall Abrams, he realized, was more amazing than he'd ever thought.

* * *

**A/N Again, hello and warm hugs to all the Wes/Kendall fellow 'shippers here. I'd fully intended for this chapter to be in the museum, but the Sutton scene popped into mind, and I thought Wes and Kendall needed a few more close moments before officially getting there. **

**Thanks for reading, and leave a review! Love hearing from everyone!**


	9. The Museum

When they entered the museum's doors, Kendall quickly found that Wes had not only attended the place in the past, but was a card-carrying Fellows member.

He waved over an assistant curator and flashed the card, explaining that he'd called ahead for a private tour. Kendall's mouth dropped open at his words.

Once they were alone again, she whispered to him, "Private tour? What's going on, Wes? I just wanted to walk around, see the artifacts and dinosaurs."

"You're saying you'd rather join them?" he asked, pointing to a gaggle of children, hassled parents, teens, and all-around large crowds pouring through the doorways.

Wes could see the apprehension in her face, so he continued, "I figured you weren't one for crowds, so when you said –"

"No, it's okay. I just didn't know. A private tour sounds great."

* * *

Kendall told the curator that she was most interested in gems and dinosaur bones, so he took them to the room where the staff were putting together the latest installment – a velociraptor. When he handed her one of its large claws, she handed her sketch pad she'd been holding to Wes.

As Wes had seen this a handful of times in the past, he remained quiet and enjoyed himself through Kendall's happiness. The sketch she'd been doing of the beast sat half-finished on the page in front of him, and he couldn't help but to begin to flip through the book.

It seemed she not only did still life, but people and places. One picture caught his attention. It was of him, standing and smiling, leaning against a wall.

What struck him the most was how well she seemed to capture him. Not just what he looked like, but what he felt like, or at least, what he felt like with her. Others have labeled him as being uptight, "in his own head," and anal-retentive. The man looking up at him from the page looked laidback, happy, at ease. Exactly what he felt like in her presence.

"Maybe I should upgrade that one, include the bruise," Kendall said, joining him.

Wes jerked up and flipped the pad closed. "Oh, I'm, sorry, I didn't mean – I wasn't being nosy, just –"

"It's okay," she said, taking it from him again and sliding it into her tote.

"Got any special plans for lunch?" she asked.

He did, as a matter of fact. The NHM Grill had a decent menu, and he got them sandwiches and drinks. Then, arms full, he led her outside to a secluded bench that overlooked garden. Unless you knew where it was, it was difficult to find.

Kendall noticed as they were eating that his chewing was slow and deliberate. "Your jaw still hurts, huh?"

"Yeah, I was right. Guy knocked loose filling."

"So, on top of murder, hd's going down for assault on a police officer."

"Yep."

"Still think you should've clocked him, at least once. I'm sure Travis wouldn't have said anything."

That had Wes smiling, though his jaw twinged at the effort. He couldn't help it, though. Was it fair that he kept comparing Kendall to Alex? No, but he'd made sure not to mention her name in Kendall's presence, so she didn't know he was doing it.

And as much as he loved his ex-wife, the fact that she wound up loving what he did more than what he was broke his heart more than the loss of her in his life.

His mind wandered for a couple of minutes into that morass of hard feelings until he felt a touch at his mouth, and he looked over to see Kendall touching at his face with a napkin.

"You had some mustard there. It was driving me crazy."

"Thanks."

She'd pulled her legs up under her on the wide bench, causing her cotton skirt to flutter a bit in the breeze. He saw a flash of smooth white thigh for a few seconds before she caught the fabric and tucked it securely under her. He silently groaned at her modesty. It'd really been way too long since he'd been with a woman, and he promised his roaring libido he'd take care of his problem later that night, alone, if it let him take it easy with the girl by his side.

It was easier said than done, though, as said girl by his side slid over and tucked herself to his side. He oblingingly lifted his arm to wrap around her. To hell with his libido. Another breeze blew over them, carrying up to his nose her light floral fragrance.

He pulled her to his side, and Kendall breathed a silent breath of relief. She'd seen his sidelong glances and felt a flush of goosebumps every time she felt his eyes on her. After that toe-curling kiss before they left, he'd not done anything but hold her arm or hand during the tour.

If his responses were anything to go by, it wasn't that he was uninterested. And, just to test the waters a bit, she casually laid her arm on his thigh, her fingers draped around his knee. The twitch of his thigh muscle made her smile, and she tilted her face up to look at him.

"Thanks for bringing me here, Wes," she said.

"It was your idea," he replied.

"My idea revolved around joining throngs of families trying to catch a glimpse of an exhibit or two," she retorted. "You know how to take care of a person. I like that. You're a generous guy."

The compliments mixed with her proximity and dancing fingers on his thigh had Wes' fair skin turning a delightful shade of pink. "And you're a sweet girl to even put up with someone like me."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You know, with baggage, an ex-wife, a history of –"

"Wes, stop," Kendall said, scooting up to face him more clearly.

"No, let me talk, okay?"

Kendall nodded and moved to scoot away, but his arm around her shoulders tightened ever so much, so she stayed where she was.

"Though you're new to the LAPD, I know what the gossip around the place is. I can only imagine what you've heard about me."

He stopped then and gave Kendall a questioning glance, but she only smiled softly and nodded for him to continue.

"I'm not so sensitive to care about all that, but I'd rather before we go any further here, that everything's laid out on the table."

"Agreed."

"I got married between undergrad and law school. It's where I'd met – her. We had the same ideals, I thought, got on well. We'd both gotten jobs at the same law firm after graduation, bought a house, you know, started to live the happily ever after."

His voice had gotten slightly regretful, and Kendall felt her heart ache just a bit with compassion.

"Then, of course, the time came where – umm, where I found myself –"

"Wanting to be on the streets instead of in the courtroom?" Kendall supplied.

He nodded, "Good way to put it. Yeah. She never understood. Hell, hardly anyone in my family did. But I knew what I wanted, what I needed to do. It was pretty much the beginning of the end of us."

He fell quiet then, and Kendall sat stock still, his arm still around her shoulders and her hand on his thigh. His gaze focused somewhere on the ground in front of them.

"Moving on doesn't always mean you're giving up," Kendall finally said. "It can mean that you're making a choice to be happy rather than be hurt."

Wes half-scoffed, but looked over to her, "Even if my being happy hurts others?"

"We're all in charge of our own happiness, Wes. "

"Yeah, maybe you're right."

Kendall pushed herself up a few inches to brush her lips across his cheek. "Let it go, Wes." His eyes burned into hers, a mix of the past, hope, and wonder. Then, as his lips stretched into a smile, the worry melted away.

"I think you and Dr. Ryan would get on well."

"Your therapist?"

Wes nodded.

"Why do you say that, 'cause we both want the best for you?"

"She's being paid to do it, though," he said. "What's your excuse?"

The tease was evident in his tone, but Kendall knew he still wanted an answer. Though he had a reputation for being confident and sure of himself, she'd seen from the beginning a man who still needed reassurance and to know he was doing the right thing.

"Maybe I just want to be seen with the cutest cop on the force?" she said.

"Ha. With Travis around, I have a hard time believing that."

"Then believe this," Kendall said, and drawing all of her courage to do what she knew she needed to, she raised both hands to his hand and turned him more fully to her. She didn't say another word, only tilted her head to align herself with his lips and pressed herself against them.

**A/N Had this half-written for a while, wondering what these two needed to do to move on, and then then words came. A bit of a heart-to-heart, letting all the "what are you doing here with me" out. And of course, loving ending a scene with a kiss.**

**I think from here on, things will ramp up, plot and couple alike. Thank you all for reading!**

**Leave a word in review?**

**Thanks!**


	10. The Bench

The logical side of Wes, the analytical part of him that made him a good lawyer and even better cop would've taken what was happening to him now and gently extricated himself from Kendall's hands and lips after a minute of sweetness and passion.

But the deep down side that hadn't felt the warmth, softness and curves of a woman's body in over a year choked the ever-loving crap out of that killjoy. For the two seconds it took for the mental beatdown to take effect, Kendall had levered herself over his body, twisting so that she was nearly laying on his lap. His hands and arms automatically took her weight, one settling behind her head, fingers diving into the curls. The other arm wrapped around her back, the fingers sliding over the soft cotton of her shirt and occasionally clenching the fabric.

The teasing taste he had of her earlier in her apartment was nothing but an appetizer, an amuse bouche of sorts to the feast of Kendall he was taking in now. Once he had her in his arms fully, her hands wound around his neck, and she held him to her mouth, not that Wes needed much coaxing. No shyness now, no hesitancy nor wonder of what should or would or could happen between them. The primal need in Wes finally accepted that Kendall was here for him because she wanted to be, and despite the gentleman in him wanting to warn her off, she'd stayed.

She was here, she offered, and he was taking. Her mouth opened under his almost automatically, and their twin groans melded as first one's, then the other's tongues swept, tasted, teased. She tasted faintly of the peach iced tea she'd been drinking with her lunch, and Wes felt almost dizzy with the overload to his senses.

When they broke to breathe after an interminable number of minutes, Wes gathered her in his arms and held her to him, his face nuzzling between her shoulder and neck. She was about as out of breath as he was, and her heaving chest brushed against his, fanning the flames of his desire for her.

A breeze wafted over them, reminding him that they were out in the open, but Wes knew the unlikelihood of anyone finding them, and besides, it added a touch of excitement that they could be found, pawing each other like a couple of horny teenagers.

His right hand stroked across her back and over her shoulder to caress the soft white skin he was alternately kissing and nuzzling. His fingers moved the fabric over a couple of inches, releasing more for him to kiss and caress. The silk ribbon of fabric he found there, peach in color, hinted at what the article of clothing contained, and a growl built up in Wes' chest at the thought. His mouth sought and found again hers as his hand stayed, caressing and feeling as far as the fabric would allow, across her shoulder, down the V of her shirt.

Even as his own body explored hers, she wasn't one to just lay there and let him. Her own mouth tasted, and one of her hands had somehow snaked between them and ran along his side, back and front. He wasn't aware of exactly what she was doing until a shudder ran through him. She apparently had been working loose his button-up white dress shirt from his jeans, and once free, dove in.

At once cool and hot, her palm and fingers pressed, caressed and scraped along his skin. It gave promise to the rest of his body, which suddenly begged and ached for her touch, as well.

He groaned into her mouth as her nails, short as they were, nonetheless made goosebumps rippled along his skin. He pulled back just enough to open his eyes and gaze into hers, gauging her knowledge of just what she was doing to him.

Her eyes were half-closed, and coupled with her open, pink lips, Wes began to calculate just how long it would take to get them back to his car.

"Wes?"

It wasn't even a question, more a simple questioning of why his lips were no longer on hers. Wes was about to rectify the situation when his phone chose at that moment to whistle its tune and hum against his hip. He could've ignored it. Hell, he should've ignored it, he knew, but the detective in him knew he couldn't.

After it buzzed and hummed a third time, he yanked it out of his pocket and hit the answer button without even looking to see who it was.

"What?!"

"Wes!"

The volume of Travis' voice, coupled with loud music had Wes jerking the phone away from his ear in shock.

"Travis, this better be important," Wes growled.

"Of course it is. My foster mom, Margie, is having a cookout, and she's been giving me hell for not inviting you. So what do you say? There's a ton of food here."

Wes closed his eyes in frustration, then opened them to look down at Kendall, still tucked into his lap, her arms around his waist, his arm – the one not holding the phone – around her back, holding her to him.

Though still showing evidence of their makeout session, her lips were curled up in amusement, showing she'd heard Travis' booming voice through the phone as he spoke above the music. Wes' annoyance with his partner tempered at bit with her smile, and he pressed a quick kiss to her lips before answering his partner.

"Sorry, Travis, but I'm busy."

"Right. Doing what, alphabetizing your jazz CDs? Come on, man."

Wes could hear Travis' foster mom in the background shouting his name, but he didn't care. Nothing short of an earthquake could pry him away from where he was at the moment.

"Travis, I can't, really. I'm –" Wes looked directly into his benchmate's eyes. "I'm with Kendall right now."

"Kendall? Really? Well, why don't you bring her along?"

Wes knew Kendall could hear, and she shook her head from side to side.

"No can do. Talk to you later, okay?"

He didn't even wait to hear Travis' continued arguments and ended the call. Though tempted to shut the device off completely, he didn't and just slid it back into his pocket.

Though just a minute long, the interruption was enough. Wes felt Kendall's hands retreat from around him, and he reluctantly let her go. She didn't go far, though, and tucked herself back under his arm, her head on his shoulder.

"Are you sure you don't want to go?" he asked, "Margie's food is really good."

"I don't want to be anywhere else right now."

"Neither do I," Wes said, his arm tightening around her shoulders.

"Thank you for inviting yourself along with me."

"My pleasure," Wes said with a chuckle. "What are your plans for tomorrow? You know, just so I can clear my calendar."

Kendall's laughter was light and sweet, and Wes tried to remember why earlier he'd been hesitant to even take her hand as they walked into the museum.

* * *

**A/N Woo-hoo, go, Wes! This scene's been bouncing around my head for a couple of days. Finally able to sit down and hash it out. I'm gonna be away for the week, but will definitely write as much as I can. No computer, though, just pencil/notebook. Old school style, ya know. :)**

**Please review!**


	11. Group Therapy Part 2

The following Monday Wes and Travis sat, along with the rest of the group, on their metal folding chairs. Dr. Ryan was trying her best to explain "expectations of privacy" for partners in a relationship, but not one of the eight people in the circle around her were paying attention.

She knew why. Hell, anyone who'd been observing their group over the past several months could tell why. Their newest members, Wes Mitchell and Travis Marks, were exhibiting odd behavior today. Odder than normal for them, that is. It was nearly similar to their "roleplay" swapping of identities.

Wes sat in his chair, leaned forward with a smile on his face, and Travis leaned back with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. Neither seemed to want to have anything to do with the other.

Dakota was the one who had the guts to finally say something.

"Are you guys all right?"

"Fine," Wes replied, smiling at the young woman. "Just had a good weekend. Good week, actually."

"Oh, God," Mr. Dumont huffed. "You're not back with your wife, are you?"

"No, no," Wes said quickly.

"Good," Mr. Dumont said. "That woman was just stringing you along."

"I haven't spoken to Alex for a few weeks now," Wes assured him.

"Then what is it?" Peter chimed in. "You've never looked this happy. Ever."

Considering he'd only spent about six hours total with these people, Wes tried to swallow down his irritation. "Am I not allowed to be? Sorry to disappoint you."

Rozelle spoke up this time, turning to Travis. "And you look like somebody kicked your puppy. Did something happen between the two of you?"

"He stood me up for a girl," Travis bit out, a derisive glance shot Wes' way.

"Are you sure they're not gay?" Peter whispered to his wife, Dakota, who shushed him.

"You know how much my foster moms mean to me," Travis accused Wes, who rolled his eyes in reply.

"I also know you've got a dozen of them. You called Saturday afternoon, with no warning, and expected me to drop everything and run to you."

"You could've brought her along. I like Kendall, too."

"She didn't want to go," Wes explained.

"Who's Kendall?" Mr. Dumont asked.

Geez, Wes thought, how many more people needed to know his personal business? "Nobody," he said, hoping the group would take the hint and leave him alone, or at least Dr. Ryan would take control again.

But Travis refused, of course. "Huh, wait 'til I tell her you said that."

"Nobody I want to talk about here," Wes said, his back teeth gritting in frustration.

"Too bad," Travis replied. "You have no problem telling everyone here about my girlfriends. Quid pro quo, partner."

Wes huffed, "You have no girlfriends. You have a series of one night stands."

"Hey! I see some of them more than once, you know. Tell me why we can't talk about one of yours?"

"Because I'm not sleeping with her!" Wes fairly shouted, and as his voice rang through the room, his good mood dissipated, and frustration and annoyance took over. Every pair of eyes in the room landed on him.

It was bad enough that he had to be here, he refused to allow Kendall – his Kendall – into this mosh pit of feelings, misunderstandings and inappropriate comments. Enough had been said already, thanks to Travis' big mouth, so he took the only road left to him. He stood suddenly, his metal folding chair clanging behind him with the effort. He straightened his jacket and began to walk out.

"Wes, get back here," Dr. Ryan shouted after him.

No, Wes thought. He was through with this. Through with people telling him what he could do, say, date. He'd ask the captain for a transfer or a new partner before he stepped foot in that room again. He was to his car when he heard heels on pavement behind him.

Only his respect for Dr. Ryan herself had his hand freezing on his door handle instead of tearing out of the parking lot. He turned slowly and leaned against the door, arms crossed over his chest in defiance.

He didn't speak. He didn't think he'd need to. Until until now, Dr. Ryan had such a bead on him, she should know why he stormed out – and why he refused to return.

She stopped a few feet away, her face an interesting mix of annoyed and concerned. He wondered which emotion would win out.

"There was no need to run out. I would have put a halt to Travis' comments."

"You allowed it in the first place," Wes replied. "In fact, you've let me play patsy, bad guy, unfeeling father figure, and asshole in there since day one."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

Wes scoffed at her texbook reply and turned again, this time getting his door open before she spoke again.

"Wes, wait. Please."

He leaned against the open door, but refused to turn back around.

"I can't make you come back in, but I will have to report your voluntary withdrawal."

Wes scoffed again and shook his head.

"Before you go, I'd like to tell you that I'm very happy that you've found someone. I know how difficult it's been for you to do so."

That he didn't expect, and Wes' head turned back to her.

"For someone to have captured your interest and your heart, it seems, she must be a remarkable woman."

"She is," Wes agreed, his voice low as his eyes met hers.

"I've said before that nothing's out of bounds in group, but in this case, I will make sure that your private life is kept as such."

Wes wanted to believe her, but she wasn't the problem. His beef lie in the tall, jean-clad man walking over to them.

He straightened his back in defensive pose, his jaw automatically setting. Dr. Ryan saw his change in mood and turned to see Travis approaching them.

"Travis, I was just explaining to Wes here that he wasn't to worry about his private life being brought up in group. I assume you agree with this, also."

Wes hid a smirk at her tone, thinking it was about time she took his side on something.

"You're both here to learn how to work together better, not to intrude on the other's social life."

"But –" Travis began to retort, but Wes glared at his partner, daring him to say one more word. Between himself and Dr. Ryan, Travis appeared to relent and back down.

"Okay."

"You'll both return, and any mention of Wes' current life live is verboten."

Wes nodded. He could live with that. He shut and locked his door and headed back into the building, not giving Travis the satisfaction of any eye contact.

* * *

**A/N Had to look up the group members' names. Hope everyone knows everybody. Dakota and Peter are the young couple. Mr. and Mrs. Dumont are the older couple, and Rozelle and Clyde are the african-american couple. I'd written this a few chapters ago, but figured I'd need to get Wes and Kendall in a place where this argument would fit in.**

**Wrote more while on vacation last week, so you shouldn't have much of a wait for another chapter. Thanks!**

**Please review.**


	12. The Hotel Room

Kendall pressed one final key, and Buster took over, applying her own self-written algorithms into the program. The few minutes it would take for the process to run gave her time to lean back in her chair and rest. Her thoughts, inevitably, went back to the lean, taut, sweet and adorable blonde detective that she'd been seeing for the past month.

Her lips curved in a smile of remembrance. Their initial worries of how to handle their co-workers once they found out lasted for a day, maybe a day and a half. Due to Janson and Travis' gossip milling, pretty much everyone found out within a couple of hours. Kendall didn't mind at all, but she knew Wes was more reserved and got defensive when others dove into his personal life.

But beyond his initial worries that they shouldn't do "this" in the office, beyond the first teases of "Wow, Wes is dating," there'd been nothing. They'd settled down into talking and flirting/teasing at work, and a few times a week, had dinner, went for walks, saw a movie or two, or just hung out at each other's places. They'd hit the museum a couple more times so Kendall could see the rest of the exhibits. She'd refused, though, to take advantage of his members card again.

They did, however, hit "their bench" a couple more times, but, to her disappointment, cuddling, kissing and pawing over and under clothes was as far as they ever got. Kendall wasn't an overly sexual person, but she wanted Wes, you know, that way. Physical attraction to the blonde hottie came way before she got to know him, and by the way he looked at her, the feeling was very mutual.

When she did strive to push a little bit more, extending a kiss a bit further when they parted, or stealing a hand up under his shirt - he loved that, she knew - he'd accept it, but then pull away after a few more minutes, leaving them both panting.

Well, she thought, as Buster dinged that he was done with her work, maybe this weekend would serve as a turning point in their relationship. If something didn't happen soon, she'd maybe put on her big girl panties and out-and-out ask him what was up.

* * *

Friday night she spent alone as Wes and Travis had to finish up a case, and she offered to meet him at his hotel room Saturday for some lunch and togetherness. Kendall had found out a couple of weeks ago how well Wes cooked, and he was gently teaching her.

"So," Kendall said, leaning against the counter as he stirred a heavenly smelling pot of sauce. "I got a call this morning. I'm going to be an aunt."

"Congratulations," Wes said with a smile.

"Yeah, well," Kendall said with half a smile and half a laugh.

"Isn't it supposed to be a happiness-inducing situation? I don't have any siblings, so –"

"I am happy," Kendall replied. "Babies are cool, especially when they're not yours, and you can hand them back."

Wes laughed at that and asked, "Which sister is this?"

"Kenley, my younger sister."

Wes thought back quickly to Kendall's family makeup. Three girls, Kendall's the middle child. The oldest was five years older than Kendall, married with three children, and the youngest –

"Wait," Wes said. "Kenley's the one who just graduated, right? From WVU?"

"Yep," Kendall said, sneaking a finger in the sauce to take a taste.

"I don't remember you saying when she'd gotten married."

"Yeah, right," Kendall scoffed. "Kenley married, that's a good one."

"But she's having a baby."

"Yeah, about four months along now, I think she said."

Wes returned to stirring the pot, blatantly ignoring Kendall's unhygenic finger dipping. He gave up that argument last time, when she argued that a man who French kissed her on a daily basis should have no problems with the germs on her finger.

"What do your parents think about that? Having a baby out of wedlock – She is going to have it, right?"

"What are you getting at, Wes?" Kendall asked. "Only married people can have children? That's not how it works."

"Ha ha, I know how it works," he said. "But it's preferable, don't you agree? I mean, Kenley just graduated, and now she's gonna have a kid? Guess she'll have to move back home with your parents."

Kendall's stance slid from leaning against the counter to straightening up, arms across her chest with every word Wes said. "Kenley lives with her boyfriend, who is the baby's father. They graduated tgoether and both are suitably employed. She will take leave once baby is born, but then return to work. Does this meet your standards, Mr. Mitchell?"

Despite the heat from the stove, Wes felt the temperature of the room drop at least 10 degrees within the last minute. He slid the pot off the burner and turned the heat off. He'd somehow angered the lovely redhead to his right, and he wondered what he'd done to earn her wrath. He was just looking out for her, and really, her family, as well.

"I just think children brought up in two-parent homes fare better," he explained.

"The baby will have two parents, Wes."

"He could leave whenever he wanted, though, with no repercussions."

"Yes, he could," Kendall agreed. "But then again, so could she. A marriage license doesn't change that."

She shook her head, not quite believing, of all things, this would be the subject of their first argument. "What if I got pregnant, Wes?" she asked. "Would you insist we got maried, just to conform to your archaic notions of what makes a family?"

His eyes flickered with a handful of emotions before he replied, "You want to have a baby?"

"Wes, that's not the point," she said, her arms dropping down in defeat.

Not even knowing what her original point was, or what she expected of him, Wes hung his head in frustration. "Well, it's irrelevant, no matter what, 'cause we're not having sex, so there's not even a risk of it."

The ten degrees of temperature drop in the room suddenly went to 50 as Kendall's head snapped up, and her eyes bore into his. "No, we're not."

Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and walked out of the kitchen. Wes heard her heels clicking across the hotel room, presumably picking up her bag and jacket, but it wasn't until he heard his door click open and shut that reality set in that she left.

In one heart-stopping moment, a sense of déjà vu swept over him. Not just one instance, but flashes from his entire life – friends, lovers, his wife all walking out on him.

All that accompanied by a sense of love, frustration, and anger. This time was worse, for some reason. In the past, he'd told himself that he didn't care, and he hid behind logic and knowledge that he was the one in the right.

Now, though, Kendall's distraught face, her back disappearing through the door broke something in him.

He felt a flash of physical pain coursing through his chest. Damn, he thought, was he having a heart attack? A few seconds of self-diagnosis threw away that argument, though. The symptoms were all wrong.

A voice in his head, now, annoyingly sounding like Travis said, "No, you dumb ass. Your heart's breaking. She's walking away from you, and you can't stand it."

No, he couldn't, he thought, as he headed out of the hotel room.

"Kendall!" he shouted, running through his hotel room, half in hope that she hadn't gotten too far.

When he got to the outer hallway, the ding of the elevator caught his attention, and he turned. "Kendall, wait!"

Her step towards the open elevator faltered, and he ran down the hallway toward her. The attendant stepped out, and Wes mentally crossed his fingers.

She shook her head at the uniform-clad man, and Wes exhaled in a sigh of relief. When the doors slid shut again, he raised his hand to her arm, but she fliched, and he knew he'd done worse damage than he realized.

"I'm sorry."

That raised her eyes to his, and he saw the glassiness of unshed tears.

"Kendall, please, come back inside. I'm really sorry. Can we – can we talk? Please?"

Wes couldn't remember ever apologizing so much in one sentence, but at that moment, he would get down on his knees if it meant erasing that look off of her face.

She swallowed and nodded, walking past him back up the hallway. Wes followed, and then hurried ahead to open the door for her. Step one done, he thought. She was back inside, but once he closed the door, he saw that she stopped three steps in.

Wes began to unload then, saying he believed a family consisting of married parents and children was the best way to go, 'cause it's what he grew up in, and it's the only way he'd known.

And though he's never met her family, if they were half as sweet and smart as she was, they'd make loving and wonderful parents. That got her smiling a little bit, but she still wasn't moving and refused to meet his gaze.

Now the other half of what he needed to apologize for. "As for what else I said, I mean, you'd make a wonderful mother. Your son or daughter would be funny and smart, and probably be able to shoot a gun straight their first time around, too."

She was blinking now, wiping at her eyes and dropping her bag onto the floor. And now, Wes thought, the final point. His mouth opened and closed, wondering how to explain to her that he'd been wanting to be with her, naked between the sheets, since before the kitchen incident.

"As for us coupling, I mean, I didn't want you to think I was like Travis, you know, only wanting you for sex, and then –"

"Wes, you know I don't think that."

He took a hesitant step toward her. "I know you don't. But –"

"But what?"

"I – I haven't had sex since Alex and I separated," he finally said. "And since I was faithful to her, and we were together so long, my, umm, sexual partners don't even reach the double digits. Really, you're the first woman I've been with this far in a year and a half. I don't want to screw this up."

"Oh, Wes," Kendall said, giving up her defensive position to take a couple steps toward him.

"I've enjoyed every moment I've spent with you, Kendall. I don't want to rush this."

Kendall cleared the rest of the space between them and raised a hand to his cheek, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Wes, I don't want sex to be end of this. If you don't want to, we won't. I like spending time with you, being with you. Being able to call you my boyfriend."

Wes chuckled, half in relief that she was near him again and not crying, and half in being designated her boyfriend.

"What's so funny?" Kendall asked.

"I'm your boyfriend, huh?" he asked.

"We've been dating for a month," Kendall said with a smirk. "I believe etiquette books call this a relationship, making you my boyfriend and me your girlfriend."

Wes' eyes widened in mock wonder. "There's a book for this?"

"Ha ha," Kendall said, rolling her eyes at his silliness. "I just want you to loosen up, Wes. You need to not let what others do and expect dictate what happens here. Can you do that for me?"

Wes lifted a hand to hers, twining their fingers together between them. "I can try."

"Good. Now, there's no one else here," she said. "You're off duty. I'm off duty. Without thinking of the consequences or what happens tomorrow, what do you want to do, right now?"

A dozen scenarios went through Wes' mind as to what he, indeed, wanted, and they all lead down to falling on his knees and thanking whatever higher power allowed this wonderful woman in his life. He settled for something else entirely, though. A scenario that revolved around making the beautiful, smart, and sweet woman standing before him know just how he felt.

"Well, I am kind of hungry."

She took a deep breath and breathed out a sigh. "Okay, then. Want to head back into the kitchen?"

She took a step in that direction, but his grip on her hand stopped her. She looked up at him, and was caught by a look that she'd only seen a few times before, though this time, it was twice as burning and lust-filled.

"Oh, that kind of hungry," she breathed out.

Wes nodded, and with a tug on her hand, brought her body back to his. Her stumbling step brushed their bodies together, and Wes used her surprise to grasp her face in both hands and kiss her soundly.

When he let her up for air a minute later, he began to walk backwards. His knowledge of his hotel room's furniture served him well, 'cause he didn't want to miss one moment of wonder and awe and happiness in Kendall's face. He didn't release his hold on her jaw until the backs of his knees hit his king-size bed.

* * *

**A/N In my notes, I wrote "and thus commence the bed bouncing" after that last line. LOL Go, Wes! Think our boy will mellow out now? I hope so, too.**

**Half of this chapter is what I wrote during vacation, and really, I have nothing else written. Hmm, what happens now? hmm, hmm, hmm.**

**Please review.**


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